Here’s a post I’d forgotten about… well, let’s be honest, I’ve forgotten pretty much everything I’ve written. That’s why I write it—to get it out of my head so I don’t have to think about it anymore.
Anyway, here’s a post from March of 2010. The boys were 16-months-old.
I believe one of the reasons my wife first fell in love with me was my Steve McQueen-like driving skill. There was one event in particular when, with her sitting shotgun, I deftly raced around a wildly spinning truck on the 101 freeway. I calmly and coolly sped up rather than slamming on the brakes, which I’d rapidly calculated would have placed us right into the path of the rogue vehicle as it slammed into a concrete barrier. If you’re trying to picture my maneuver, I’ll just tell you, yes, it was totally badass.
As that illustrates, emergency situations don’t faze me. What does faze me, however, is loud noises. Not like loud music. No, I mean random blasts of sound — a book falling off a table, a door slamming and, unfortunately, a baby screaming. I know, I know. Someone who reacts badly to loud noises deciding to have a kid is like a man with no fingers deciding to become a gunslinger. And I have two… babies, that is, not fingers.
I had no delusions about how often babies scream/cry/wail. For you future parents, babies don’t just scream when they’re upset. If my guys are any gauge, wee ones scream when they’re happy, eating, playing, walking, crawling, getting dressed, opening the toy chest or just because it’s Thursday. I thought that kind of immersion would help cure me of the problem. As you might expect, it just aggravated it. I feel like I’m constantly telling the boys “Keep it down,” “Use your inside voice,” “Quiet now, guys” or “Honey, where’s that bottle of Glenfiddich I just bought?”
But last night, I stumbled upon a rather unorthodox coping method. Wyatt started screaming when I put him on the changing pad, so I started screaming with him. Every time he opened his mouth to let one fly, I did too. He thought it was hysterical and it kept me from stressing out. Perhaps, rather than forcing my boys to act more reserved, I need to act more youthful. I’m going to try shitting my pants next.
…is someone about to have their first child talking about how easy it is to be a parent.
People love to give advice to parents, even if it is misinformed parenting advice. Guest dad-blogger, David Vienna, offers defense for often given advice.
For anyone who may have missed it, I wrote a piece for how2beadad that encourages parents to act violently toward stupid assholes.
Haha. So true. It really only bothers me if they brag about it while giving me advice as if I haven’t tried every single thing I found online already. I’m fairly convinced good sleep has nothing to do with parenting skill and everything to do with the personality of said child.
Our boys are good sleepers and have been from a young age. But, we don’t mention it because, when we do, people want to slaughter us.
And yes, we had nothing to do with it.
I’m surprised to find one of my favorite baby names, Voltron, appears nowhere on this map.
I haven’t simultaneously laughed and nodded this much since I saw the last Tom Ford video.
This is the greatest thing EVER! Holy shit.
Bless me child for I have sinned. It’s been your lifetime since my last confession and I feel like I need to come clean. I have lied to you, stolen your property and coveted your dinner, as well as youth.
I am your father, but I haven’t always been a parent. I used to be just like you. I was an immature, unorganized mess of a human being skating on the edge of a downward spiral. But you made me. You made me a man who is responsible for another, and then three others.
There are four of you children and I confess that I am not always truthful about who I am and how I get by. There are things that I must do, discretion that I must make to get through my days as a parent. I will not share all my secrets, but I will shed some light on some of what you do not know.
So here are the first 25 confessions that come to mind.
- I had sex with your mother in your bedroom long before it was your bedroom, but the memory still lives there.
- I pop your balloons when you are at school.
- I throw away your drawings, but I have saved every birthday card you ever made for me.
- I am the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny. However, Santa Claus is real.
- Calliou has always been our go-to babysitter when Mom and Dad need some adult alone time. Because of that Calliou’s theme song kind of turns me on.